I've still got it. . .a bit.

As my Sunday came to a close, I couldn't help but wonder if a certain ability of my past still existed.  I pondered the thought, which has been bouncing around in my head for a while.  I confess, proudly, I am a Trekkie, not just that, but a full blown Sci-Fi freak.  Yes it's true, and I have been reminiscing among old and quite cheesy Star Trek movies (as my wife would attest) this weekend.  And it has been amazing watching how bad the graphics were, but how awesome the stories and legends are.
From an earlier post, I let the world know that I am an amateur sculptor.  Having taught myself since the age of six, and until recently had now professional instruction.  I use to spend hours on end, creating ships, cities, creatures and whole universes, just waiting to be stepped on by my parents and siblings.  I sculpted so much, my mother made it a rule that every time I was to come up stairs my hands were to be washed, and my pockets to be turned out.  I was, and still am addicted.

So here tonight, when I should be asleep, I show to you all, I still have it . . .a bit.

To those who need an introduction, the first four are the U.S.S Enterprise E, D, B and original.
To those who don't, I hope you can recognize them.

 Each one is very basic, and to anywhere from ten minutes to 25 minutes

 Don't mind the giant hand floating in "space".

And because I could hear my mother telling me to, "branch out" after every sculpture,  I'll prove to her I have.

I can't wait for my next: Midnight Sculpting Experience!

Lost in Thought

It's amazing to me how on such a cold winter day, I can feel the warmth of sunlight on my face.  Even though my glasses fog, and the wind bites my nose, I can still feel energy coming from our source of life.  It finally the January I know and love.
Today I sat on my bus, with my Anthropology book in my lap, and soaked in the surroundings: a bright blue wispy sky, the ebb and flow of traffic, a grumbling bus engine that propelled me to my stop just in front of a spectacularly designed court house.  I found myself meandering my way past the City and County building, admiring the stone and mortar of its walls, a very stoic figure surrounded by all the naked trees.  And the thought dawned on me: I'm lost in thought!  Not a very profound one, or one unknown to my mind.  But why had this common thought thrust itself out to my mind, to rub against the ridges and wrinkles of my grey matter?  I was lost in my thought, with no accompaniment, there were no words or lyrics being sung into my ear canals.  I had no emotions assaulting me,  I wasn't being moved by a constant melody or beat.  It was just me, my conscience and no one else.
If you do not follow my thought, or understand what I am saying, DROP YOUR HEADPHONES.  I know in the past I have said I'm unplugging for the day, and I often make fun of others and myself for being cut off from the world around them, but now I am unplugging.  I'm dedicating this semester (and possibly others) to an Ipod free semester.  Some may scoff and wonder how long that will last, others just may flip past the screen.  But know, those of you that stay and read this, I am unplugging myself from my small inside world, and experiencing the great wonders around me.
Its already been a week, so lets see what more comes from it!

A return of Kindergarten

21 pairs of hands, holding oversized pencils, 21 pairs of little feet swinging and crossing beneath shin high seats.  21 eyes taking in their bran new classroom.

We spent the past break dusting, cleaning, scrubbing and sanitizing a room of Mrs. Erickson's very own, one that has a tall bouleton board, one name plate over the door jam, and one teacher's desk in the corner.

As I sit here, listening to my wife teach 21 little minds, I can't help but smile at the memory of my own kindergarten, paper lions and lambs hanging from the ceiling, a giant doll house full of furniture and toys, blocks, blocks and more blocks!  Reflected in the small pool of faces before me are my friends, aquaintences, and self of the past. 

Part of me often feels the need to sit at the desk, and write the letter of the day, or sit on the rug and listen to a story being told.  I even feel myself cringe with everyone else as someone gets in trouble, or yearn for praise when someone else receives a complement from Mrs. Erickson.

With Hello Kitty bandaide on finger, my wife fearlessly teaches one how to count to ten, keeping little minds working and staying on task.  I wonder how she does it all.  I come to volunteer and often end up a spectator, and then come home practically falling asleep before my head hits the pillow.  And she's the teacher!

Mrs. Erickson, in the words of one of your student's mother, "Your simply incredible!